


you'll notice (when things become different)

by palateens



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Relationships, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, mentions of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Now Jack’s stuck in New Orleans, Bitty’s angry or sad more than he’s actually around, and Dex is just—stuck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally prompted on tumblr: the way you said i love you "broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave"

Bitty’s visiting Lardo, again. The expansion draft didn’t turn out the way they wanted. Now Jack’s stuck in New Orleans, Bitty’s angry or sad more than he’s actually around, and Dex is just—stuck. Stuck in an apartment too large for one person in a city he barely knows. He spent so much time unpacking and decorating when they first moved here, now it feels like a waste. He thinks about how long it would take to box everything up, and ship it down South.

Bitty would be furious.

Dex’s working a lot of overtime lately. He works until his supervisor or HR kick him out. He calls his family a lot. They’ve started asking what's wrong.

“You should come visit,” Dylan told him the other day. “Portland’s fucking beautiful right now.”

Maybe there was more Jack could’ve done, or more Dex should’ve said before Jack told his agent he was ready for anything. Dex just assumed that Providence wouldn’t let go of their most valuable player.

Dex makes dinner. It’s some rustic new age twist on empanadas from that food delivery subscription Jack got Bitty a while back. He doesn’t feel like putting the TV or record player on. Background noise has gotten too cold lately, forced and completely artificial. The clanking of his fork keeps him company. The meal is supposed to feed four. Dex packs away the rest in the fridge; he’ll have leftovers for lunch.

He runs five blocks to the gym, lifts weights for a while. He runs to a cafe he found the other week when he got lost. He orders a tea because he’s sick of staring at the unused nespresso machine at home. He finds a corner table where he can rest his head against a bookshelf.

Dex takes a long sip of the chamomile tea with almond milk. It tastes like sunshine and something sturdy yet warm. He closes his eyes, wiping a stray tear away from his eye. He sits in a crowded room for a while, letting the hum of happy people take him somewhere else. Like maybe a stadium in New Orleans or an apartment in Boston with friends who are hardly his anymore.

He walks home slowly, tugging on the drawstrings of his borrowed Falcs hoodie. He vacuums for the fourth time that week. He reads another chapter of Les Mis because it’s Jack’s favorite book, and then watches _Sweet Home Alabama_ until it’s time for bed.

The next morning he calls in sick.

He stares at the apartment for what feels like hours but only adds up to twenty minutes. He packs a suitcase. He starts grabbing clothing for a weekend in Portland. Next thing he knows, he has enough clothing to last him a month. Dex feels a shake in his breath. He takes a few extra flannels he knows don’t belong to him; he rips a jersey off it’s hanger. He takes the stuffed rabbit that’s been collecting dust on the beside table, shoving it into his backpack. He sits on the suitcase so everything will actually fit.

He grabs the thickest winter coat that isn’t his. He storms out of the bedroom. A light glares in his eye. Dex turns his head. It’s the picture of the three of them in Montreal last summer. He throws it so hard across the living room, it shatters against the back wall.

Dex hears a gasp to his right. He pales. He pulls his suitcase toward the door, eyes not meeting Bitty’s.

He feels hands clutching at the coat he’s wearing. Dex refuses to look.

“I’m going to Portland,” Dex explains. “Dylan said I could crash there for a while.”

Bitty moves closer. “Baby—”

“You know the worst part?” he says, barely above a whisper. “You miss Jack. But I miss you too.”  

“Baby.” Bitty’s voice cracks. “You don’t have to—”

“Eric,” Dex says firmly. “I can’t right now. I just—can’t.”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much. I’m sorry. I never wanted—I was just so mad about things that don’t matter. I’m sorry.”

“That’s ok,” Dex assures him softly.

“No it’s not.”

“I should go.”

Bitty nods, biting his lip as he reluctantly lets go. Dex moves toward the door.

“I love you,” Bitty says one more time.

“You can’t even ask me to stay,” Dex says before he leaves.

Bitty doesn’t go after him. Dex breaks down in a train station bathroom. He buys a ticket heading south, unsure if it’ll make a difference.    


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty watches Dex leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got really attached to this story, so I'm going to see it until the end. There's going to be at least three more snippets so I hope you enjoy

Bitty watches Dex leave.

 _You can’t even ask me to stay_  rings in his ears. He’s right. Bitty couldn’t even stop him, fight for them. Why didn’t he?

It takes him a couple (dozen) minutes to finally lock the door to the apartment. He mainly came back to grab more clothes. He can film videos anywhere. Lardo’s apartment is nicer than this place. Maybe it’s not as big or new, but it’s filled with people and vibrancy.

He stares at the door for the longest time before shuffling to the kitchen. He grabs the handle of the fridge, pausing a moment to look at the sticky notes still left there. Most of the ones from when he and Jack first started dating have since been laminated and added to a scrapbook. That was Dex’s anniversary present to Jack last year. The only ones left are from last year’s playoffs. Before the expansion draft—before their semblance of normality shattered. One in the top right corner catches his eye.

_Welcome to adulthood sugarbee <3_

Bitty huffs, almost laughing. Dex hates peanut butter. He makes exceptions to eat pbj sandwiches for special occasions. That note is from Dex’s first day of work. He was offered a high paying job in Silicon Valley. He took the first offer he got in Providence to live with Bitty and Jack.

He can’t remember the last time he asked Dex how his day was. He can’t remember the last time he had a conversation without snapping at him, or Jack, or both. He scrubs his face tiredly as he finally opens the fridge. It looks a lot like how he left it two weeks ago—perfectly organized and overflowing with containers. He sighs, wondering how much he’ll have to throw out.

Bitty checks the labels on each container. Most of them are meals; most of them have “eat by” dates scribbled in messy handwriting. He takes something that says “empanada” and heats it up in the microwave. The hum of the microwave is the only thing that keeps him company.

He tries to call Dex as he waits for his food. His phone is shut off.   

Bitty eats in the living room, turning on the television. It’s on the menu screen for  _Sweet Home Alabama_. Bitty swallows thickly. That’s  _his_  favorite movie, but Dex hates rom coms.

He watches in silence. A few times he has to rub his eyes dry. Not because any of it is new or powerful to him, but because he can’t remember the last time he saw Dex grin.

The empanadas are delicious. He wishes he could’ve been there to watch Dex cook. He decides to stay in Providence a little longer, hopping Dex will come back.

Bitty spends the rest of the day in a daze, wandering through the apartment. It’s too clean and organized. There only room that has a distinct smell is the bathroom which has some candles that are half used. They smell like pine, cinnamon, tangerine, and honey. Bitty gasps softly. They smell like him and Jack.

He can’t find señor bun anywhere. The closet is practically torn to shreds. He finally goes back to the living room to pick up the picture frame Dex shattered. He stares at the image for far too long.

It’s the three of them laughing and smiling in the Zimmermanns’ backyard. Jack’s arm is around Dex’s waist as Bitty kisses Jack’s cheek.

He can’t recognize these people. They look lively, happy, and in love—not a trace of discarded fragments of hurt feelings and miscommunication in sight. Bitty vaguely recalls being ten and falling against a metal trashcan. It nicked his chin so hard there was still a scar underneath.

“Now you know what love feels like, son,” Coach chirped him as he was hauled to the ER for stitches.

If only love were that gentle.

He remembers telling Dex how amazing it would be once he graduated, and the three of them could finally live together. He chokes up a little. Dex doesn’t yell, and he doesn’t raise a hand outside of an ice rink. Bitty’s never seen him so angry and hurt in his entire life.

He tries Dex’s phone five more times. He calls once every fifteen minutes until it’s two am and he’s so exhausted. Apparently, they live on a busy street. Car horns and ambulances sirens whir through his ears at all hours of the night. He wonders how Dex sleeps through this. Maybe he doesn’t; maybe he’s gotten used to it as a comforting break from this life’s deafening silence. 

Bitty wakes up the next morning in a bed too big for just him. He feels ten years older just from being in this apartment for so long. He calls Dex again. This time it goes to voicemail. 

_This is Will. Leave your name and number, thanks._

He doesn’t know what to say. His breath is raspy as he tries to pull some words from deep within himself—something profound or apologetic or conveying even half of the sorrow he can feel from the remnants of the life they’ve subjected Dex to.

The voicemail message cuts off. Bitty calls again. He gets voicemail again.

“I couldn’t ask you to do something I wouldn’t,” he says finally. “But I guess, I’ve been asking that from you for a long time.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, baby. I just—I’m so sorry.”

Bitty hangs up before he can lose his nerve. He sits on the floor of their—Dex’s—kitchen for a while, watching the tile grout. He calls Jack. He picks up on the second ring.

“Bits?” Jack’s voice is soft and confused.

His hesitation stabs Bitty like a knife. He doesn’t know when they got so broken they couldn’t talk on the fucking phone.

“Jack, I—” he cuts himself off. The hand holding his phone is trembling.

“What is it?”   

He bites his lip. “He left.”

“Who?” Jack says. “Dex?”

“Yea,” Bitty says.

“What’s wrong? Where is he?”

Bitty shakes his head, relieved that Jack can’t see how wet his face is. “I ruined everything. I—I don’t know. He said he was going to Portland to stay with his brother but—I just don’t know.”

The line is silent for a moment. He briefly wonders if this is the last straw for Jack. If he could only take so much of Bitty’s protesting, and it was Dex he stayed for. Bitty hiccups, he clenches his free hand until it hurts as much as the rest of him.

“Ok,” Jack says finally. “We’ll find him.”

“Ok,” Bitty repeats quietly. 

He expected Jack to break up with him, not offer to fix his mess.  _Their_  mess, he supposes. 

“Bits...I’m sorry. You were right. I do put hockey first.”

“No sweetheart, you were right. I care so much about things going my way.” He chuckles sadly, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’m terrible when they don’t.”

“I’m sorry things are hard right now,” Jack says quietly.

“Me too,” Bitty admits. “I miss you all the time. Even when you’re right next to me, I miss you.”

Jack makes a sound that’s half a grunt, half a sigh of resignation. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know,” he half lies. “I came in and he was packed up like he was leaving forever. He shattered his favorite picture of us, Jack. I’ve never seen him so upset.”

Jack sighs. Bitty thinks they both know there’s so much they aren’t talking about; so much that they still have to talk, argue, and cry about. But that doesn’t matter as much if they’re missing a whole piece of their lives.

“I’ll get myself scratched from tomorrow’s game,” Jack says finally. “We’ll find him.”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty says again. “I didn’t mean for everything to come crashing down on us.”

“I know, Bits,” he says softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

His words give Bitty a feeling he hasn’t had in a long time.

Hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was really hoping you just missed me,” Dex says.

Jack hangs up after figuring out travel plans. Bitty agreed to come down to New Orleans later that day. Boston’s too far for Jack on the off chance that he can’t get scratched. The idea of meeting in Providence hung in the air like a noose.

It makes Jack shiver. Once upon a time, Providence was everything. It was a perfect compromise between everything they wanted. He’s still kicking himself for thinking he could’ve stayed there for most (if not all) of his career. Good players get traded all the time. Some get taken places the NHL has never been before. It’s just part of the job.

Only no one told him that the job meant more distance between him and everything he wants in life. A new team has to start from the bottom to get a Cup. New Orleans is states away from everyone he loves.

He remembers watching Bitty’s face fall when they called Jack’s name at the expansion draft. The option of getting drafted was always there. They just hadn’t considered it to be a serious possibility. Bitty didn’t smile like a man so proud of his boyfriend. He smiled with a force that weakly hid how devastated he felt.

Jack could practically hear Bitty’s mind coming up with a million ways New Orleans could crash and burn them. He knew because that’s exactly what he thought.

Dex on the other hand, kept a brave face for both of them. He helped Jack separate things in their newly rented apartment. He put everything on a truck and drove it down to New Orleans himself. It’s the only time Dex has seen Jack’s new place. He kicks himself mentally, remembering the crestfallen look on Dex’s face when he saw how small Jack’s apartment was.

“That’s it?” Dex asked softly. “You don’t want somewhere bigger?”

“No,” Jack said simply, confused. “I don’t need more space.”  

Dex nodded. He held Jack for a long time, until he made excuses about returning the rental truck on time.

Jack runs a hand through his hair. Dex was asking if they were all moving there. He was ready to pack up his life, again, to keep the three of them together. And Jack blew it. He hasn’t been making time to visit Bitty and Dex in Providence because he and Bitty fight more often than not anymore. He never wanted to pull Dex into that.

If anything, Jack assumed Dex and Bitty would dump him any day now. Decide together that they were better off without him. Not for Bitty to call begging for help to help find Dex. Not to spend an hour on the phone stumbling over excuses and apologies about things that never mattered much.

Jack falls back onto his cheap brown couch. New Orleans is supposed to be a temporary pit stop. His contract is over at the end of the season. He’s ready to move back north, or somewhere else that makes sense for the three of them.

He scrubs his face, burying himself under an ugly throw pillow. Dex is gone, and Jack would never have known without Bitty’s call.

He misses Dex’s sense of humor, and the grumpy sneer he gets when a good chirp is made at his expense. He misses the way Dex is, was,  just so open around them. He misses napping with his head in Dex’s lap while he played video games. He misses how light and gentle Dex’s hands caress him, perfectly contrasting how rough and calloused they are.

Dex is a quiet but firm voice in the middle of the night saying “I’m right here if you need me.” He’s flannels that are somehow softer after he uses them. He’s a smile that has twelve different meanings depending on the direction of his eyes. He’s chocolate chip cookies, car grease, and an early morning fog.

They have no idea where he is.

Jack groans in frustration. He should just call Dex. That’s what he’ll do.

_This is Will. Leave your name and number, thanks._

He hangs up without leaving a message. He calls again. He calls four more times after that until someone picks up the phone. Jack can hear a shallow breath on the other end.

“Hey,” Jack says finally.

“Hey,” Dexy’s voice is strangled and barely above a whisper.

It leaves a pang in Jack’s chest. “Where are you?”

He hears a huff, followed by an extended silence. “Bitty called you, didn’t he.”

“Yea,” he admits.

Dex makes a strangled sound. Jack can’t tell if he’s sad or angry or both.

“I was really hoping you just missed me,” Dex says.

“I do—” Jack starts to protest.

“He shouldn’t even know.”

Jack balks. “What do you mean?”

Dex sighs. “He doesn’t live in Providence anymore. I mean, I guess he does. His name’s on the lease, but that’s about it.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know everything, but we can fix it.”

Dex takes a shallow breath. “I wish you’d said that back in August when Bitty didn’t want to come visit for your birthday, or maybe a month ago when I called and asked  _you_  to come visit me.”

Dex makes a strangled sound. “I wish it didn’t take _Bitty calling you_  for you to remember I exist.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says. “I love you. I thought you were doing fine without me.”

“Yea, well,” Dex says. “Maybe instead of assuming you could’ve picked up the phone.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s fine. This isn’t forever. I just—” Dex cuts himself off with a sob.

“Mon nounours,” Jack says mournfully.

“I’m sick of staring at the same four rooms, hopping  _someday_  someone will walk through that fucking door and say ‘I’m sorry we left you.’”

“Dex—”

“I can’t be your third choice, Jack,” he says firmly. “I’m not a consolation prize.”   

“I know that,” Jack insists. “You aren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Ok,” Jack placates. “I just needed to know if you were safe. Bits is worried sick.”

Dex laughs in a way that is hollow and pained. “I’m alive. I’ll text you when I get where I’m going.”

“Where is that?” Jack dares to ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits before hanging up.

Jack screams into a pillow. His life is in shambles; it has been for a long time. He hates himself a little bit for not realizing this sooner. He’d give anything to be holding Dex right now. Instead, he gets up and drives to the airport. He sits in baggage claim for a few hours.

When a hand touches his shoulder, he doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Bitty. He sits down next to Jack. They hold hands tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says finally, his voice breaking as his breath hitches.

“Me too, sweetpea,” Bitty says, equally broken. “You and Dex are the world to me. I’m sorry I kept pushing you away.”

“I should’ve worked harder for us,” he explains.

“Ditto,” Bitty says. “Well c’mon, show me this awful place you call an apartment. We can’t find him if we’re too damn tired to move.”

Jack chuckles sadly. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex knew he wanted to go to New Orleans, in theory. However, that was also the last place he wanted to be at the moment.

Dex knew he wanted to go to New Orleans, in theory. However, that was also the last place he wanted to be at the moment. He gets a train ticket going south. The scenery as the train rushes past New York is breathtaking. He takes as many photos on his phone as possible. Every shot is crooked and the colors are obscured by the dingy brown tint of the train windows. But it makes him miss Jack in a way that doesn’t eat at his insides. 

The end of the line is in Washington, and by that point he’s bone tired. He buys a phone charger because he left his at home. He buys a ticket going to Raleigh as soon as he realizes what he needs. Dex spends the night on the slowest route they have. It gives him something to do, at least. The food in the dining car is alright. He can’t help but think of the leftovers he would’ve preferred to be having right now. He wonders if Bitty left Providence already. Part of him hopes that for once, Bitty’s eating something Dex made for him.

He keeps his phone on do not disturb on the off chance Bitty wants to talk. He just can’t at the moment. It hurts to much. 

The train pulls into Raleigh at ten the next morning. Dex takes an Uber to a decently rated hotel. It’s not like his money gets spent on anything but a gym membership and TV subscription, anyway. He might as well put some of it to good use.  

His phone rings. A wave of anxiety pools in the pit of his stomach. It’s Bitty. He let’s it go to voicemail. A few minutes later Bitty calls again. Dex ignores the buzzing in his pocket as he signs for his room key. When he gets to his room, his phone buzzes again. He sighs, pushing the door open with his shoulder as he listens to the voicemail Bitty left. 

_ I couldn’t ask you to do something I wouldn’t. But I guess, I’ve been asking that from you for a long time...I’m sorry, baby. I just—I’m so sorry. _

Dex is so tired of feeling shitty all the time about his life. He doesn’t want to be right. He wants to work through shit when he’s in a place to not completely break down every time he hears Bitty’s voice. He feels like an idiot for caring so much. Regardless, he crumples up into a ball for a while, clutching señor bun as he does so. 

He wakes up from a nap he didn’t intend to have with his cheeks still wet and tear stained. He notices a few seconds later that he awoke because his phone is ringing. The caller ID says Jack. For a moment, he really hopes it’s just Jack calling to say hi. It’s not like he and Bitty have much in the way of functional conversations anymore. This could just be Jack reminding Dex how much he loves him. That would be nice. 

Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Jack is just calling because Bitty told him to. 

Dex has to fight back a sob at one point. “I wish it didn’t take  _ Bitty calling you _ for you to remember I exist.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jack says. “I love you. I thought you were doing fine without me.” 

“Yea, well,” Dex tries to stop himself from being a complete asshole. “Maybe instead of assuming you could’ve picked up the phone.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s fine. This isn’t forever. I just—”  _ I need to know you love me _ , he doesn’t say out loud. 

“Mon nounours,” Jack says. Which just about breaks Dex. 

He doesn’t want half felt apologies. He doesn’t want some lavish gift to make him forget that he isn’t even worth calling. That Jack not telling Dex his schedule makes it impossible to know when  _ he  _ can. Relationships aren’t perfect, but he needs someone to start giving back. 

“I’m sick of staring at the same four rooms, hopping  _ someday _ someone will walk through that fucking door and say ‘I’m sorry we left you.’” He admits. 

“Dex—”

“I can’t be your third choice, Jack,” he says firmly. “I’m not a consolation prize.”    

“I know that,” Jack insists. “You aren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Ok,” Jack says. “I just needed to know if you were safe. Bits is worried sick.”

Dex laughs mirthlessly. Of course Bitty’s concerned. The part of him that’s hurt and angry wants to say Bitty’s never sorry for anything. Just ashamed that he got called out.  “I’m alive. I’ll text you when I get where I’m going.” 

“Where is that?” Jack dares to ask. 

“I don’t know,” he lies before hanging up. 

He scrubs his face a few times before getting up to shower. He texts a few numbers while getting ready. He grabs his Schooners jersey from his suitcase. He pulls it over his head and stares at his reflection in the mirror for a while. He feels so much older than twenty three. On the outside he looks fine, healthy even. But his eyes are desolate, cold, and fucking tired. 

Dex orders a cheap whiskey from the hotel bar. He downs it before his Uber arrives. The drive to PNC arena is relatively short. He gets a text about going to will call before the game. He gets a pretty good seat all things considered. He watches the Schooners warm up. 

Chowder waves when he spots him. Dex grins a little too hard as he waves back. It’s been six months since the last time they saw each other. Right now, he isn’t someone’s boyfriend or brother or the guy at the office who’s just a little too quiet. He’s just a guy, who happens to know an NHL player, enjoying some hockey.

Dex leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. He focuses on the sound of blades grinding against the ice. The chill of the arena makes him think of Faber. He grins thinking about how the light in there always hit Bitty’s hair just right. He clenches his fist thinking about the last game Bitty ever played. He was so good, and leagues above the timid sophomore who fainted when Dex brushes against him. 

He realizes it was probably a mistake, dating two of his former captains. It’s hard to detach hockey, and all of college for that matter, from Jack and Bitty. They’re so deeply intertwined with who he is now and how he sees the world. He doesn’t regret it, but he wonders how hard life is going to get when they no longer pretend that they want him. They can barely function with each other, what’s stopping them from blowing up and burning Dex in the process? Nothing, is the answer. They’re already halfway there. 

The Schooners beat the Canes by three. Dex gets a text from Chowder about which direction the lockers are. His access pass gets him as far as the entrance to the visitor locker room. He accidentally bumps into another Schooners player while texting Chris.  

“Fuck, sorry,” Dex says, rubbing where his eye smacked into the player’s forehead. 

“It’s fine, no worries,” the player says. “Have we met? You look familiar.” 

Dex opens his eyes to take a better look at him. Of course, he recognizes star forward Carter Harris. He vaguely remembers he used to play for...the Aces? 

“Uh, I met Kent Parson once?” Dex offers. “You might’ve seen a picture of me.”

Carter clicks his tongue, nodding slowly. “That doesn’t narrow it down...but picture sounds about right. What’s your name again?”

“Dex,” he says. “Uh, it’s Will, but no one calls me that.”

“Oh,” Carter says. “Poindexter. You’re Nursey’s friend.” 

Dex blinks in confusion. He mentioned Nursey before Chowder. Interesting. “Yea that’s me, alright.”

Carter nods, offering him a handshake. “Nice to meet you, man. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” 

“Thanks,” he says. “I’d say ‘likewise’ but…”  

“Dex!” Chris shouts from behind them.    
Dex sighs in relief. He thinks there’s a lot he needs to be caught up on. His friend’s love lives included. 

Chris knocks shoulders with him before giving him a bone crushing hug. 

“It’s good to see you, Dex,” Chris says as Dex hugs him. 

“Yea, you too,” 

“You know, you didn’t  _ have _ to come to North Carolina just to hang out,”  

Dex chuckles a little sadly. “What? And miss you shut out the Canes? Never.” 

Because Chris has always been perceptive, he notices the way Dex rocks back onto his heels ever so slightly. Dex internally cringes because now Chris knows something’s wrong. And he really didn’t come here to talk, he came to be around someone who enjoys his company. He just—wanted a friend. 

“I heard there’s a place around here that has amazing boba,” Chris says instead. 

Normally Dex would make a chirp at Nursey’s expense about bubble tea. But he isn’t around, and Dex isn’t ready to crack jokes. 

Instead, he says “swawesome”, bids Carter goodbye, and  follows Chris out to meet their Uber. They end up getting mozzarella sticks too, and they walk around a while as Chris tells him all about how Nursey and Farmer are getting used to Seattle.

“Nursey’s the biggest hipster ever,” Dex argues at one point. “He’s gotta be right at home there.”

“You’re not wrong,” Chris says with a smirk. “He’s having fun alright.” 

“Ok, that’s it,” Dex says with a laugh. “You have to tell me what’s up with him and, y’know…” 

Chris stares at him for a sec. “Oh you mean—” he stops to look around. The street around them is virtually empty. “Carter asked him out right before camp.” 

“Yea? What’s he like?”

“Nice,” Chris says. “His mom founded Calliope so we talk about software a lot. He really cares about Nursey—”

“Wait what?” Dex balks. “Carter Harris is the son of fucking Dawn Harris the woman who single handedly bankrupted Amazon?” 

“Yea,” he says, “pretty neat, huh?” 

“I should’ve taken that job with Nvdia,” Dex laments, scrubbing his face. 

Chris nods, taking another sipi of his tea. “You know I’m not oblivious, Dex.” 

Of course, Dex knows exactly what he’s talking about. “Fine, say it.”

“What exactly did they do?”

“Nothing,” he says. “That’s the entire problem. I—” 

He takes a deep breath. “Fucking expansion draft. I knew Bitty would be pissed about moving to New Orleans. I thought, ok so we don’t move but Jack visits when he can. We’ve done long distance for fucking years. Bitty got a  _ year _ to live with Jack, I never—” 

Dex clenches his drink, taking a long sip. “I got a  _ month _ of living with them. Then Jack moved out.” 

“And Bitty?” 

“Basically moved in with Lardo,” Dex says. “Who fucking cares about Dex? He’s just the ugly asshole we felt sorry enough to date for three years.” 

Chris frowns. “You don’t really think that.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t want to talk about it. I came here to see you. I missed you, seriously.” 

“Well I missed you too, Dex,” Chris says, hip checking him gently. 

Dex sighs in relief. 

“Don’t forget you can come live with us if you need to.” 

“I won’t,” he promises quietly. “Thanks, Chris.” 

“I mean it too,” Chris insists. 

“I know, you’re my best friend.” 

Chris raises his eyebrows

“... _ One _ of my best friends,” he clarifies. “Happy?”

“Not really,” Chris admits. “You don’t have to pretend you’re ok, Dex. Not for me.” 

Dex nods. He stares at the cracked, stained pavement underneath them as a car passes by. “Bitty called this morning, and then Jack. First time in three months they called me. I didn’t have to play fucking phone tag for a week. Because Bitty thinks he fucked up,” he rambles.

“Well didn’t he?” Chris asks.

“That’s not the point,” Dex says, voice cracking. “I want them to want me.” 

He feels Chris squeeze his shoulder. 

“Can I hug you?” Dex asks. 

“Always,” Chris says. 

Which is how Dex went from living by himself in Providence to sobbing on his best friend’s shoulder in the middle of Raleigh a mere 36 hours later. 

“I miss you guys,” Dex mutters. “I miss having friends and living with people, and not pretending to be fucking ok because I can’t go to anyone with this shit.” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Chris says. “I get it. It fucking sucks when everyone says your relationship is perfect.”

“Exactly,” Dex says. 

“Question isn’t if they’re going to come around, Dex,” Chris says, pulling back so Dex can see the severity in his gaze. “It’s ‘what are you going to do differently for yourself?’ Because there’s no fucking way you can keep living like this.” 

He nods. “I know. I fucking know that. I have to look out for me, I guess. That’s the only thing I can do.”

“How’re you going to do that?”

“I guess...I’m going to Portland for a while.” 

“Ok,” Chris says neutrally. 

“What?”

“Is that where you want to go? No bullshit, if you could be anywhere right now.” 

Dex frowns.

“Don’t think about it,” Chris warns. “Just tell me.”

“New Orleans,” he says. “Chewing the fuck out of my boyfriend...boyfriends probably.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Dex mutters. “And I would hate myself if I didn’t try something new.” 

Chris chuckles. “That’s who you are, Dex. You don’t give up. Especially if you care about something.” 

Dex knows he’s right. He’s stubborn to a fault. He spent months making Betsy I work, and six months keeping that shitty old washing machine afloat. But people aren’t machines. They don’t respond to a simple bang or tightening a loose bolt. Debugging software is easier than figuring people out. People don’t always respond to logic. They have hairwire triggers, and they hardly say what they mean. Most importantly, machines don’t hurt like people hurt each other. 

He’s non-platonically loved a grand total of three people in his life—two of them being Jack and Bitty. He knows it’s not as simple as “they hate me, they’ll leave me.” Because even if they never want to see him again, he’ll miss them with every fiber of his being. Not because he got used to having them around, but because every day he spent with them made him fall more and more in love. 

Maybe that alone made the last five years of his life worth it. 

“I guess I’ll see you in New Orleans,” Dex says finally. 

“I’m holding you to that,” Chris says. “We’ll figure it out, ok?”

That phrase keeps coming up. But this time, Dex is inclined to believe it. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think we’re all doomed to make our parents’ mistakes?” Bitty asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 has limited tags, so I think it's worth noting that a major theme of this chapter (and the next) is the ways in which parents' unhealthy relationships and coping mechanisms significantly impact the way in which we understand and model relationships   
> there's implied emotional abuse in this chapter

Somehow, they get as far as the apartment without snipping at each other. Jack shows Bitty around while he makes quite disparaging remarks about this and that. 

“This is the worst couch I’ve ever sat on,” Bitty says at one point. 

Jack bites his tongue, shrugging. He never realized how good Bitty is at deflecting from real conversations before. Bitty sighs as Jack begrudgingly sits down next to him. 

“I’ve turned into my parents,” Bitty says rubbing his temple. 

Jack snorts, interlacing his hands tightly between his knees. Normally, he’d say something to placate Bitty. 

“When Coach doesn’t like something, he throws himself into work,” Bitty explains. “He keeps himself busy until he’s ragged and then you feel like an asshole for pestering him with your problems. Then even if you’re right, he won’t talk to you.” 

Bitty licks his lips. “He uses his presence as some sort of reward system.” 

Jack shakes his head. “That’s horrible.” 

Bitty leans back into the couch. “Well Mama isn’t much better. She’ll insult your job, your house, your interests, in the tiniest most back handed comments. You don’t even notice you hate yourself until your sobbing on the floor because you can’t find a spare phone charger.” 

“It wasn’t even important, either,” Bitty continues, licking his lips. “I was just trying to remember where it was. Then I start thinking about how I can’t keep track of anything...how fucking stupid and  _ useless  _ I can be. I’m just...so sick of holding myself responsible for other people’s happiness. I couldn’t do it anymore and I thought staying with _Lardo_ would do us all some good but—”  

Bitty’s voice falters. 

Jack scoots closer; Bitty tucks himself into Jack’s side. It feels so simple, reaching out to each other for comfort. Somehow they’re still in love. Jack counts the number of breaths Bitty takes. He murmurs for him to slow down, showing him how to breathe so he doesn’t hyperventilate. 

They sit together on the couch for a while. Bitty murmurs apologies: about not even talking about New Orleans; about refusing to visit; about starting so many unnecessary arguments because he felt hurt and alone. 

Jack trembles. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear this. Bitty shifts them so Jack can bury his face in Bitty’s neck. 

“I got you,” Bitty murmurs. 

He sighs with relief. He hasn’t let himself slow down in months. He didn’t realize until now how much he hates living alone. He hates coming back to nothing and no one. He hates feeling like his quality of life is determined solely by hockey. It feels all too familiar. 

Jack shivers. Bitty squeezes him tighter. 

He doesn’t feel like twenty eight. He feels caught in between youthful naivety and exhaustion from fighting tooth and nail for his career. Providence was a nice reprieve, a little blip that convinced him there was a way to have it all. Maybe it’s still possible—to have time for friends, family, and lovers. But that’s not true in New Orleans. They’re too new and hard around the edges. They have everything to prove and no where to go but clawing their way to the top.

Perhaps that’s why Jack didn’t fight more, because he saw too much of himself in a team. Then again, he’s always wanted to prove he could do something great without anyone else’s influence. He mentally kicks himself as Bitty holds him tighter. Strength and isolation are very different things. Jack didn’t have to force himself into an expansion draft success story; no more than Bitty had to push him away. 

Bitty says something about fixing up dinner. Jack stops him from getting up. Their eyes meet for a long, deafening moment. Jack can hardly believe they’ve been cycling through life with each other—through fights, tears, and triumphs—for five years now. Bitty doesn’t look anything like he did at eighteen. He’s stronger, physically, and his hands are calloused like a hockey player. His eyes aren’t bright and doe-eyed anymore. They echo back the same exhaustion Jack feels in his bones. 

He can’t believe how much he missed Bitty, all of him; even the hopeless expression he gets when he’s down on himself for not being able to miraculously fix things. People aren’t raw ingredients that can be turned into something better, more pleasant. They’re more like shards of glass getting pieced back together, bit by bit. Sometimes, they slowly make beautiful mosaics. Sometimes, they never go back to working right the same way again. 

It’s something they have in common, a burning need to make things work. He thinks briefly that it’s a control thing. A desperate attempt to handle and make good everything that cannot be contained. But life, he’s learned, is doomed to be erratic and unyielding. 

Bitty scoots closer. He kisses Jack softly on the cheek before heading to the kitchen. It’s a simple gesture. But it’s filled with hope and resignation. It speaks volumes of how Bitty was raised. He wonders how much Bitty would put up with until he found his limit. He wonders how much of this skewed situation they’ve put themselves in seems normal to Bitty. 

Jack’s breath catches in his throat as the sound of cabinet doors opening gets too loud, and rapid. There’s a loud crash and a scream. He runs to the kitchen, practically knocking the door off its hinges. Bitty’s kneeling on the floor, staring at the first mixer Jack ever bought him, back when they were still in college and Jack was beyond clueless. 

“I’ve been looking for this,” Bitty says, barely above a whisper. “I looked for months.” 

Jack doesn’t say anything. Instead, he sits on the floor next to Bitty, staring at the mixer with him. 

“I  _ needed _ it Jack.”  _ Needed you _ hangs between them, sucking the air of the room. “Why’d you take it?”

Jack swallows thickly. “I didn’t. Dex did.”

He puts an arm around Bitty’s shoulder. 

“He said you’d want it when you got here,” he adds.

Bitty makes a strangled sound. It’s every bit enraged and heartbroken as Jack feels. Bitty wraps his arms tightly around Jack, burying his head in Jack’s hair. Misery likes company, and his feels a little less lonely with Bitty here. 

Dinner ends up being freshly made pasta. They work slow and meticulously together. It’s stifled at first, but they regain some semblance of team work. Jack finds himself in Bitty’s arms in little moments along the way. 

But it’s not perfect. Bitty has to bite back criticisms about Jack’s help. Meanwhile Jack has to stop himself from shouting like he has been for months over the phone: shouting about how hard he has it playing in the NHL; how much bigger his problems are than anyone else's; and about how the little things Bitty does (things that used to make them both so happy) drive him up the wall.  When Jack gets angry, he gets loud and explosive. When Bitty gets angry, he gets quiet and cold. They both get mean and tear each other apart at the seams. 

It makes Jack realize that he’s been here before. The difference now, however, is that he wants to try. He needs to make it better. And this time, if it doesn't work, he isn’t completely alone. 

Bitty loosens up as the pasta boils. He wraps his arms around Jack's waist as easily as he did a year ago. He looks like something Jack wanted long ago, something out of a dream. He wonders when Bitty stopped _being_ his dream, and at what point did he turn into his parents. 

“My parents have a long distance relationship,” he confesses over dinner. He then adds, “most of the time.” 

“Really? Your dad retired years ago,” Bitty says with a frown. 

Jack shakes his head. “Maman has her acting career. Papa does philanthropy work when he can.” 

“I thought you said once that your parents raised you,” he says. “No nannies or anything.”

“They did, when they had the time,” Jack says. 

Bitty stares at him for a second, before huffing. “That just isn’t right.”

“Bits—”

He puts a hand up. “Give me a second. You gotta let me process this.” 

Bitty rubs his temple. He doesn’t glare at Jack, but rather his fork. 

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Bitty admits finally. 

“I’ve never seen my parents argue.”

Bitty snorts. “Lucky you.” 

“Because they take their anger out on everyone else,” he explains. “On teammates, coworkers,  _ family _ .” 

Jack swallows. Bitty pales, hand reaching out for Jack’s. 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t gotten much better at that,” Jack says. 

Bitty nods slowly. “I don’t like it, but I understand. I’m sorry too.” 

“I know,” he says softly. 

Jack watches him bite his lip. Bitty doesn’t take his eyes off his plate of barely touched food. 

“Mama comes from a long line of women in miserable marriages,” Bitty says. “I wasn’t sure if that was a straight thing, or a southern thing, or a Phelps thing, or just a plain old ‘life sucks’ thing.” 

“It’s not,” Jack thinks out loud. “Or it doesn’t have to be.”

Bitty’s lip twitches slightly. He glances up at Jack, looking every bit as unsure as the day they met. 

“Do you think we’re all doomed to make our parents’ mistakes?” Bitty asks. 

“I hope not,” Jack says honestly. 

He hasn’t been around long enough to know either way. But he thinks later, as he and Bitty murmur back and forth on the couch—holding onto each other like a lifeline as they pretend to watch one of Alicia’s old films—that they’re already doing far better than any of their parents. That has to count for something. 

A deep ache settles into Jack’s chest. They might never have gotten back to this place of mutual understanding and grieving if it hadn’t been for Dex. He wonders what chance they have of getting him back. More importantly, he wonders if it’s fair to drag Dex back into the middle of their problems. Jack wants to give him the moon and more. He deserves so much more than what he’s gotten from them lately. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Bitty says, as if somehow reading Jack’s mind. 

Because Jack is just as worn down and grief stricken from this year as Bitty is, he’s inclined to believe him. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know he could miss the sight of someone more than air, more than life itself.

He gets on a 6 am flight to New Orleans. He spends most of the time he wanted to spend figuring out what the fuck to say sleeping. He buys an economy ticket because he has no clue how this is going to end, and he’d rather save up the money for hypothetically moving across the country.

Dex drifts in and out of consciousness as his neck gets stiff. He keeps going back to what Chris told him. It’s not about waiting on them to be different, it’s about making a change for himself. It should be as easy as saying “I need you to do x, y, and z.” But in reality, he’s never been good at asking for what he wants or needs. He learned that tendency to act first, ask questions later from his parents. He scrubs his face as the plane touches down in New Orleans. At least he’s unlearned his father’s tendency to snap. No, picking up and leaving was all his mom. 

He gets one of the cabs that’s parked in arrivals. The cab driver is nice enough; he’s quiet, asking how Dex’s flight was and where he’s off to. 

“Going to see family,” he says neutrally. It doesn't feel like a lie. 

The driver stops in front of Jack’s apartment building. It doesn’t look nearly as bright as it did in July, back when everything seemed possible. Dex gives the driver a large tip and asks for a business card. He stuffs it in his back pocket before getting his bag out of the trunk. The only downside to packing half his life into one suitcase is it makes it nearly impossible for a quick getaway. 

That’s fine, he tells himself. He won’t need to bolt out of here like a small child. He isn’t hiding in a closet because his parents’ argument got too loud and too violent. He isn’t here to watch his father threaten his mother, or his mother to scream as she runs out of the house and takes nothing but the keys to the pickup truck with her. He won’t spend hours watching his younger sisters while he wonders if and when (and which of) his parents will come back. 

This is nothing like them, he’s made sure of it. 

Thankfully, Dex remembers Jack’s apartment number. He checks his watch as he approaches the door. It’s almost 10:45am. He sighs. There’s no telling if anyone is home. He could very well be the idiot who spent too much money looking for people who are out looking for him—or don’t want to be found, for that matter.  

Regardless, he takes a deep breath. He reminds himself he’s here because he wants to try. Not because anyone makes him feel obligated to be here. Rather, he’s here because he wants to know that he did everything he could—for better or worse. 

Dex’s knuckles rap against the door. He hears nothing. He waits a minute, and then tries again. He waits for a minute, then four. He feels like a complete idiot for stalling the inevitable. He rests his forehead against the door, taking a shuddering breath. 

“You need a key for that,” Jack says from somewhere to his right. 

He tenses, pushing away from the door slowly. He turns, preferring to stare at Jack’s neon yellow running shoes than his face. Every emotion he thought he could suppress smacks him hard in the chest. Dex isn’t confident and composed. He isn’t ready to say everything’s fine and just live happily ever after. He’s bitter, vulnerable, and lonely. He’s just trying to keep a tight lip so he won’t crumble before he gets a word in edgewise. 

Jack lifts his chin softly. Dex hasn’t looked him in the eye in months. They’re just as soft and worried as ever. He clenches his jaw tighter. He didn’t know he could miss the sight of someone more than air, more than life itself. 

There’s an tightness in his throat. He wants nothing more than to look away. But the part of him that’s in love, that’s waited for Jack to just say that he _ wants _ him, can’t stop savoring the moment. Jack steps into Dex’s space. Dex doesn’t stop him. 

Jack cups Dex’s jaw with his hand. Dex thinks the pressure of how hard he’s clenching might be enough to break his entire face. They don’t say anything, not at first. They’re both a little terrible at filling silences. That’s how they first started hanging out in the reading room Dex’s freshman year. They’d spend hours up there, watching the stars, slipping in little comments about life as they went. But those little comments slowly turned into some of the most profound conversations he’s ever had.

Dex misses feeling that close to someone. 

“Dex,” Jack whispers. “I’m glad you’re safe. I was so worried about you.”

Because that’s the only thing he’s wanted to hear in the last two days, he doesn’t even care how wet and blurred his vision becomes. He expects Jack to back off, to be concerned that he said or did something wrong. The last thing he expects to happen is Jack hugging him fiercely while Dex cries into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack says. “I love you. I want you.” 

Dex feels his heart in his throat. 

He lets Jack nudge him gently into the apartment. He won’t let go of Jack, and Jack doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I can’t believe the lack of butter in this apart—” Dex hears Bitty say behind Jack. 

He opens his eyes, mouth parting slightly when he sees Bitty standing there in one of Dex’s old fishing shirts. He looks every bit relieved as Jack did. 

Bitty steps forward cautiously, reaching his hand out to hold Dex’s cheek. Dex shudders at the touch.  

“Hi baby,” Bitty murmurs. “I’m sorry it took us leaving you hung out to dry to get our asses in gear. But I love you, and I’m so happy to see you.” 

Bitty uses his sleeve to dry Dex’s other cheek. 

“We’re gonna fix this, alright? We’ll talk it out first, and make sure we do whatever until you’re happy,” Bitty says. 

Dex nods. 

“I’m making your favorite for lunch,” he says with a subdued smile, “pulled pork mac and cheese.”

“That sounds great,” Dex says, his voice cracked and dry. 

Bitty frowns. “Can I get you anything? You must be exhausted.”

Dex doesn’t care if Bitty means exhausted from the flight. He’s exhausted from the months it took to get here, and the heartache it took to do anything about how miserable he felt. 

“I could use that kiss now,” Dex admits quietly. 

Jack grumbles, holding him tighter.

“Oh hush,” Bitty says. “He asked me.” 

He watches Jack and Bitty bicker a little back and forth. It isn’t like before. There isn’t the same undercurrent of tension and resentment. It’s been replaced by affection and humor. It makes Dex’s chest feel a little lighter. It makes him chuckle through another round of tears. They stop their chirping, staring at Dex worriedly. 

“I missed this,” Dex says. 

More than anything, he’s just glad to be home. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not as simple as I missed you, I love you, Jack realizes.

It’s not as simple as I missed you, I love you, Jack realizes. They eat lunch as if they didn’t arrive here separately in their own bouts of insecurity and resentment. So of course things are bound to come up.  

“Why didn’t you say you wanted to move here?” Jack asks after they’ve cleaned up the table.

He hears Bitty sigh next to him. He suppresses the need to argue.

“Because I didn’t,” Dex admits. “I just wanted us to stay together.”

 

The conversation devolves from there.

 

_/.\\_

“You didn’t even put up a fight with the GM’s,” Bitty says accusingly.

“I didn’t have a choice,”Jack insists.

“You always have a choice,” Bitty says. “It shouldn’t always be hockey.”

_/.\\_

“It’s different here,” Jack says. “It’s a big area. People are more accepting.”

“I told you I was never moving back to the South,” Bitty says sternly.

_/.\\_

“What do you do all day besides film?” Jack snaps.

“You’d know if you bothered to call me,” Bitty says with a huff.

_/.\\_

“How am I supposed to know when you’re free?” Dex asks.

“Have you tried leaving a voicemail?” Jack asks.

“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t have a life and maybe I was waiting by the fucking phone for your to just say something? _Anything_?”

_/.\\_

“Providence is nothing if you aren’t there, Jack,” Bitty says. His voice is ragged and his hair is disheveled.

“Coming from the guy who up and left me,” Dex murmurs as he gets up, moving to the living room.

“I lived there before you, William, I know exactly what it’s like,” Bitty snaps, following after him.

“Yea? You mean how I came every fucking weekend I could and called you all the time?” Dex says.

Bitty lets out an exasperated moan. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want the last eight months of my life back!” Dex says, a little louder than normal.

It’s not a shout. Dex never shouts. He still winces, clenching his fists tightly. Dex takes a deep breath. Jack notices the way Dex’s hands tremble at his sides.

“I want to go to bed where I know people want me,” Dex says.

_/.\\_

“You never listen,” Bitty says.

“Well I can’t listen if there’s no one to talk to,” Dex says.

_/.\\_

“I didn’t ask for this,” Jack say hoarsely.

“Yea? Well neither did I,” Dex says.

_/.\\_

“So what? You’re just gonna pick up and move to Seattle?” Bitty shouts.

“Maybe,” Dex says quietly. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea.”

Bitty shakes his head, pacing some more. “I know you’re mad but you don’t have to go half way across the country—”  

Dex balks. “Mad? You think I did all of this because I’m throwing a tantrum like a fucking child?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“This is exactly my problem,” he interrupts. “I’m not your fucking pet project, Bitty. I’m upset because I gave up living close to my friends, my brother, and a really great job opportunity because we were going to live together. The _three_ of us. Why does Jack bailing mean you want nothing to do with me?”

“But Dex—”

“But nothing,” Dex says. “when are you going to admit that you don’t love me like you do him?”

Bitty’s nostrils flare. He gets within an inch of Dex, glaring at him murderously. “Fuck you. If after three years you can’t tell how gone I am for you—then fine, run away to Seattle or hell or get lost in a ditch somewhere. I don’t fucking care anymore.”  

Bitty storms to the bedroom, slamming the door so loud it knocks a picture frame off the wall.

_/.\\_

Jack scrubs his face tiredly. He pulls out his phone to check the time. It’s just after midnight. He buries his head in his hands.

“I always wanted a cat,” Dex says randomly from where he’s lying on the couch.

Jack hums.

“I had all these ideas for how to fix up the apartment,” Dex continues.

“Yea?” Jack murmurs from his recliner. “What happened?”

“I did every single thing on my list, it only took a month.”

“Must be a nice place,” he says.

Dex snorts. “It is. I think you’d like it.”

“I bet,” Jack says quietly.

There’s a beat of silence.

“I never know what you need from me,” he says. “I try to ask and sometimes I think I know.”

“Only sometimes,” Jack chirps.

“I hate crowding people,” Dex admits. “But I guess, I suck at asking if you need help as much as I suck asking for help.”

Jack nods.

“I’m sorry,” Dex says. “I want you to be happy too.”

He chuckles half heartedly. “I’m not. I miss you all the time.”

_/.\\_

Dex moves to the kitchen at some point. He orders pizza before the distinct ping of the oven preheating rings through the apartment. Jack closes his eyes for a second. He hears Dex shuffling back. There’s a soft scratching against his scalp before he feels a soft kneading against the base of his neck. He sighs, reveling in how well Dex knows his pressure points.

He feels a peck on his temple. Jack cracks his eyes open, just a hair. Dex isn’t eighteen anymore. He filled out his muscles, and his haircut isn’t so dumb (neither is Jack’s anymore, for that matter). His smile isn’t ear splitting. But unlike his younger days, Dex’s smile reaches his eyes.

It takes Jack’s breath away.

“I love you,” Jack murmurs.

Dex rolls his eyes. “I love you too, dork.”

Jack scoots over slightly. Dex takes the hint, arranging himself half on the recliner, half on top of Jack. His warm breath sends shivers down Jack’s shine. Dex kisses his temple. Jack pulls them closer together.

For better or worse, they’re in this together.

_/.\\_

Dex knocks on the door to the bedroom after the pizza arrives. Bitty pokes his head out. Jack can tell he’s trying to act hurt still.

“I ordered your favorite,” Dex says. “Extra cheese, extra pineapple.”

“Hold the sauce?” Bitty asks.

“On your half, yea,” Dex says.

Bitty grumbles before opening the door wider. Dex doesn’t so much hug Bitty as cling for dear life when Bitty rams into him, squeezing the life out of him from as much as Jack can see.

“I’m sorry,” Bitty says into Dex’s shirt. “You hurt my feelings, but you were right. I do put Jack first.”

“I’m sorry too,” Dex says. “You didn’t ruin my life, ok? I’m just frustrated.”

“Ok,” Bitty murmurs. “I can work with that.”

_/.\\_

Eventually, after they eat the latest dinner in history, watch a movie, and Dex somehow conjures up a cherry pie, they get to sleep in the same bed for the first time in months. Bitty pushes Dex to the middle. Jack doesn’t mind. His arm drapes across Dex’s chest, brushing against Bits’ shoulder. Under the cover of darkness their bodies meld together. Maybe it's just the humidity getting to Jack. Or maybe, a little love and some close proximity put everything into perspective. 

Jack smiles to himself, wishing they could lie here forever.

“Are we ok?” Dex asks after a few minutes of content silence.

“I don’t know,” Jack admits. “I want us to be.”

“Y’know being in love can mean everything,” Bitty says with a sigh. “But sometimes, it can count for nothing at all.”

“I can love you from Seattle,” Dex points out.

“Well maybe...I don’t know,” Bitty says.

Jack shifts up slightly so he can get a better view of them both. “What is it?”

“I want us to be happy together,” Bitty says. “But I don’t want anyone to settle. I was just thinking maybe... _I_  could go live with Dex for a while.”

“Where?” Jack asks.

“Wherever’s fine,” he says. “I can film from anywhere, remember?”

"What do you think Jack?" Dex asks. 

"My contract is up at the end of the season," he says. "I could find a team closer." 

"That'd be nice," Bitty says. 

There's a lot of back and forth after that. Mostly daydreams and speculations of what they could do different,  _better_. Voices rise and fall with excitement and hope. They're all a little too controlling, Jack thinks. It's something they have to work on. But at least when he hears Bitty and Dex talk about what they could with the rest of the weekend or next month, it reminds Jack that bumps in the road aren't dead ends. It reminds him that they've made it this long for a reason. Not because they all sat idly by and watched their lives crumble, but because they found happiness once—together and separately. 

It gives him a lot to look forward to.

They slowly lose consciousness as the sun starts to rise. The tightness in Jack's chest fades with soft snores and drooling faces. They aren't perfect. They might never be where they once were. But he thinks that's the beauty of life, finding greener pastures. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue to come? maybe? let me know your thoughts?


	8. Epilogue

An alarm jerks Bitty out of his sleep. He growls, reaching for Dex’s phone on the nightstand. Before he can grab it, however, strong arms pull him back into bed. 

“Don’t you dare,” Dex grumbles into his ear. 

Bitty turns, glaring slightly. “I hate that thing. Why couldn’t you pick a nicer ring tone?”

“Because we sleep through everything else,” Dex says while keeping his eyes shut. 

Bitty smirks. “We?”

“ _ I _ do and  _ you _ turn it off,” he clarifies. 

“Well do you have to go into work so goddamn early? You work harder than God.” Bitty chirps. 

Dex chuckles, burying his face in Bitty’s hair. 

“I do it to get every other Friday off, remember?”

“True,” Bitty says. 

He tilts his head up to kiss Dex. It’s lazy, but he can tell by the quiet moan and the way Dex inches closer that he’s slowly waking up. Dex rolls his hips slowly against him. 

Bitty laughs. “C’mon, baby, you need to try harder than that.”

“You’re going to make me late for work,” Dex says. “ _ Again _ .” 

“Would that be so bad?” 

“I could get fired,” Dex counters. 

“They love you down there,” Bitty says. 

“They could doc my pay.” 

“You’re dating a millionaire hockey player  _ and  _ a very well off Youtube celebrity.” 

“They could make me work late tonight,” 

Bitty smiles kissing him again. “Then quit.” 

Dex laughs. “You’re terrible.” 

“No just crazy,” Bitty says. “Crazy about you.” 

Dex stretches groaning as Bitty listens to the sound of his joints popping. Bitty finally shuts off the damn alarm. 

“Tell you what, I'll email my two weeks notice after I get Jack from the airport,” Dex jokes. 

Bitty hums, slipping out of bed and grabbing an old Samwell shirt off the floor. 

“You do that, and we can start picking out a new place in Seattle,” Bitty offers. 

“Yea?” Dex tries to say neutrally. 

“Only if you want,” Bitty says softly. 

Dex walks around the bed. He wraps his arms around Bitty’s waist. Bitty takes a second to enjoy the moment, resting his head against Dex’s chest. He inhales deeply. Dex smells like pine, cinnamon, tangerine, and honey. His shirt is an old Falconers shirtsey that Jack left there two weeks ago. He’s warm and steady, but he opens up a little more everyday about what he needs and wants. 

Bitty doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have two wonderful boyfriends. 

“I’d like that,” Dex admits. 

He knows they’re not perfect, not by a long shot. But he thinks maybe that’s what sharing a life is for—growing with the people you love, and helping them along the way.   

A bird chirps in the distance. He feels Dex’s lip twitch against his forehead. Bitty grins from ear to ear. 

“Me too, baby,” Bitty says. “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this ended up being much longer than I anticipated. I can't believe this story started with a single sentence.   
> Thank you for coming on this journey with me! [come find me on tumblr](http://abominableobriens.tumblr.com/)   
> I'll be back for another deximbits story sometime soon

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from The Story So Far by Clairvoyant


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